


The Thief Life

by ThatsSoPhin



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Bottom Jared, Bottom Jared Padalecki, F/M, Gen, M/M, Multi, Other, Top Jensen, Top Jensen Ackles
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-16
Updated: 2017-07-20
Packaged: 2018-09-09 01:37:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8870734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThatsSoPhin/pseuds/ThatsSoPhin
Summary: As a young and poor 17 year old, Jared's life is anything but happiness as the death of his parents only led him to travesty and living on the streets. But after accidentally being intertwined with the life of 2 treacherous thieves, Jared is pulled into their harmful world.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This book is based on _The Good Thief_ by Hannah Tinti, but this is my take on the book with a different spin

The sun's warmth sizzled on the cold-to-touch skin open on Jared's shoulders, a sigh of pleasure coursing through his body. The blanket tightly wrapped around him wasn't enough to subdue the cold winter weather that was baring, but it didn't seem like Jared had much to rely on, other than the materials that people have thrown away. The winter seasons were always harsh, especially with no proper home and barely many supplies; cold and harsh like Jared's situation.  
  
His skinny frame and tall height didn't play to his benefit in this—almost arctic-like—weather, not having enough meat on his bones due to starvation and the cruel world of growing up. His arms were coated with goosebumps as soon as a breeze went by. Shivering, he pulled the fabric tighter, trying to protect his slender body.  
  
He gazed around at the area as the people passed, teeth jittering, eyes fixated on the passing bystanders. They all just stare at him, as if he is nothing but a mere rock against a hard place.  
  
He didn't want to be stared at, didn't want to be treated as if he was a freak of nature. None of the people tried to comfort him, didn't try to help him, didn't try to at least talk to him—they all passed by.  
  
Though he couldn't blame them, he just wished he had someone. At the age of 17, he was almost valid to get a proper paying job, though, by his attire he was convinced not a lot of people would take him in.  
  
Determined to not live on the streets, though, Jared awaits the day he is legally old enough to get a job. Until then he is eating potentially poisonous berries and food thrown away from restaurants and homes.  
  
Suddenly he felt a hard metal hit his head, a small sting appearing on his forehead due to the impact of the material, surprising him as well as stinging him.  
  
"Ow!" He hissed, rubbing his forehead tenderly before looking down at his lap, where the object has landed. There lied a silver coin; a shilling. Gasping at the sight of the money, Jared's face broke out into a smile, happiness filling his eyes. He turned his head up, his eyes beaming towards the direction the coin was hurdled from, looking around for the source of the money.  
  
There stood a woman, very petite, black hair, thin framed, who was smiling at him sweetly; she was beautiful. She gave him a shy wave, a blush appearing on her face when Jared (beamed) at her brightly, mouthing her a _‘thank you’_ as he waved back at her. She kept the smile on her face, but turned her head to face the gravel street in front of her, her blue dress moving graciously as she walked down the road.  
  
He watched the woman walk away, finally seeing her disappear out of Jared's eyesight before he looking back down at the coin. 12 pence. He could buy a loaf of bread, maybe a few pieces of nice fruit, or save it to buy a few pieces of sweet candy. He hadn't had caramel in a long time.  
  
Looking past all the food, this coin was meant so much to Jared; food, a nice sleep, luck even. It was a gift.  
  
The blanket still wrapped tightly around him, Jared forced himself up, slowly rising as his legs weren't used to movement this early in the morning. Turning towards the daily market street, he started to walk forward, slowly and carefully so the muscles in his legs would get used to it. His face beamed happiness, almost creating a child-like aura that emulated innocence and joy; he felt more than happy, relieved, relaxed, reassured. He knew something good was happening and he intended it to happen all the way.

Almost sprinting towards the local market, Jared did not stop to even accept the strange glances he was getting from men and woman passing by, they all looked at him as if he was crazy or a madman. It was probably caused by his attire, which was an oversized, beige, cotton sweater followed by slightly darker colored cotton pants which all tied up with a pair of worn-out sandals that were a size too small for his feet. No, it wasn’t the best, but it wasn’t as if Jared could afford new clothes. But now with his newfound money, he felt like he could. It didn’t really matter to him what glances he attracted to himself, his focus was being able to use what money he had gotten.

 

No one usually was this excited over 12 pence, but Jared was.  
  
Speeding through people, Jared didn't take the time to notice who was in his way, thinking that bumping into anyone was much less important than being able to afford food. It wasn't that he was rude, more that he felt exhilarated. Which is exactly why he didn't see the sprinting man crash into him.  
  
Surprised by the sudden force, Jared was pushed down as if he was a domino in a chain reaction; he was toppled down at ease, the pence in his hand flying out of his palm into a stone structure in the distance. The weight on him wasn't significant, just surprising.  
  
"Hey! Watch where you are going!”

 

The voice was surely from the person above him, but Jared’s eyes were still closed due to the impact he had just received.

 

“Fuckin open your eyes!” The voice commanded, almost in a hiss. A bit startled by the situation, Jared reluctantly opened his eyes, staring up at the eyes that are bitterly glaring at him. It was a man. Not a burly, frightening one, more fit and intimidating. He looked quite young but still mature. His face structure a bit squared, while his jaw was sharply shaped. But, the only thing Jared could pay attention to was the man eyes: a bright, beautiful pair of kelly-green eyes, enough to make anyone mesmerized.

 

“I-I’m sorry!” Jared spurted, an embarrassed apology emerging from his current state.

 

Groaning, the man got up from him, the weight on his chest getting lighter as he got up. Jared still didn’t move, he just tilted his head up so he could watch the man’s actions, seeing him patting away the dirt that had fell on his shoulder, cursing under his breath. Suddenly he looked back down at Jared, scrunching his eyebrows at the frozen boy who still couldn’t decide how to react to the situation.

 

“You going to just sit there and act as if you didn’t just get in my way, or are you going to apologize?” He asked. Jared squinted his eyes, he already apologized, at least he thinks he did. Either way, the man was upset with him or Jared couldn’t find a way to get the man to forgive him.

 

“I’m sorry I didn’t see you, sir!” Jared exclaimed again before using the palms of his hands to stand himself up, which gave him an advantage in height against the man. The man was taken aback for a moment due to the discovery of the teen eyes, yet he composed himself rather quickly, putting on his intimidating persona once again.

 

“Maybe if you didn’t look over everyone as you walked, you would see where you’re going, you fucking Flagpole.” The man hissed, criticizing Jared’s height. Jared’s stature demolished at the rude comment, suddenly feeling self-conscious about his height.

 

“I am sorry, I cannot help my height…” Jared trailed off, his voice fragile and vulnerable.

 

“No, but you can help how damn clumsy you are.” The man retorted, scoffing before he walked past Jared’s sulking body, mumbling under his breath about how idiotic the boy was. Jared felt his own expression fall again, sighing softly under his breath when he felt the presence leave. Shit. He didn’t even know the man and he felt as if he had upset him.

 

No, that was a stupid question, he had upset him.

 

Letting out another breath, Jared looked down at his hand, only to freeze when he saw the pence missing. Recollecting his memory, Jared remembered the small medallion falling out of his hand as soon as the man bumped into him, the metal falling into a stone statue in front of him. Panicking, Jared looked around for the stone figure, spinning in circles, trying to find anything that may have caught the object in its fall. His eyes fell on what seemed as a well, containing drinking water. Moving his lanky legs, Jared ran to the well, gripping the edges of the molded on stone as he leaned over the opening. Although the water was only a small amount away from being crystal-clear, it took Jared a bit of time to find the pence in the water. Out the corner of his eye, a shiny reflection was present, the figure of the shape turned into ripples due to the water, yet Jared knew it was there.

 

Sighing, Jared stared down at the well, shaking his head in misery as he shut his eyes. The one time he had any money—the one time he had hope, it was thrown away from him as if it was a pointless rag doll that everyone loved to toy with.

 

Hell, that was Jared’s life. Weak and powerless like a ragdoll, thrown and torn as much as one pleases. Biting his bottom lip, Jared slowly opened his eyes, looking down at the clear liquid pooled together in a stone cylinder Jared took in a breath, closing his eyes once again. The voices around him fuzzing down to silence, he made a wish:

 

_For once, make my life not one of misery._

 

Opening his eyes finally, Jared looked down at the pence one last time before pushing himself back away from the well. He let out the breath he was holding, drooping his head down to the ground before trotting away sadly, attempting to find the closest restaurant trash pile.

 

 

* * *

 

Watching the small loaf of burnt bread fall out of the window and into the cold snow, Jared instantly grabbed the object with his hands, bringing it to his mouth so he could bite into the bitter flesh. This was regular for him, hiding behind restaurant doors, hoping that they had made a mistake in their food, throwing away anything for Jared’s use. It was around midnight by the time Jared finished gathering leftovers he found in the trash, leaning his back on the restaurant walls as he munched on what morsels the restaurant could spare. He did not waste any time eating it, gobbling down the pieces of food others looked past; to others they were trash, to Jared it was his meal.

 

People were most likely asleep by then, finishing up their daily chores right before falling into a cozy mattress, wrapped around in a soft blanket. Jared clutched the torn material he had used to cover up his body, comparing it to the bedding he had seen in shops, which he could not afford.

 

Then, for a moment, his eyes fell on a humanoid shadow that appeared around the corner of the block, broad and tall—but yet not taller than Jared—running away from something. But what? Or more accurately, whom, as he saw 3 large, bulky figures chase after him, all much taller than the figure before, even Jared.

 

The figures moved quickly as Jared could tell, their shadows moving along the wall from one end to another before they were gone, seeming to be past the alleyway Jared stood in. Curious, Jared blinked his eyes, trying to regain his focus on the rest of the world. What was that? Who was that? The figures moved so fluidly that if Jared wasn’t looking at it the exact time he did, he would have missed it. This alone spiked Jared’s curiosity more; getting up from the floor, Jared gripped on tight to the blanket still around him, hissing a bit as the harsh snow penetrated Jared’s worn shoes and touched his flesh, the cold feeling pulling out the warmth in his body. Still, he ventured forward, slowly but quietly chasing down the direction he saw the shadows move in, out of the alleyway and into the empty streets of the town.

 

It started snowing again by the time Jared walked out of the alleyway, light and flaky, falling onto the already white-covered ground. Jared felt the small flakes land in his hair, spotting the light-brown strands with a pure white, along with his clothes and body. He felt a chill run through him, yes, but he was used to it by now, so it didn’t bother him, besides, filling his curiosity was deemed more important.

 

He slowly ran down the streets, passing the lamp stands that are placed almost as a differentiation for the buildings and streets. His head shifted from left to right simultaneously, his eyes trying to figure out where the figures went. They were swift as shadows so it didn’t surprise Jared when they moved swiftly and fast now too, they probably had ran way ahead of him by now, perusing whatever task they were accomplishing. But it seemed like the words left his mouth too soon as he heard a crash coming from in front of him, causing him to jump. Looking forward, he saw what looked to be a fenced area, surrounded by well-designed, black painted metal bars. He tipped his head to the side just a bit to see if anyone was there, honestly hoping to see someone or something to fill his wonders. There, he found 3 muscular men, all bald headed and buff, teeth grit and fists clenched; yet, what was in front of them was what surprised Jared.

 

Stood there was the same man Jared ran into in the morning, still the same except now his clothes were a bit soiled, soaked and ripped as if they were Jared’s old outfits. He was in front of the 3 burly men, but it seemed almost as if he was being cornered by him instead, looking particularly small—in stature at least—against the men. Still, he seemed to hold his stance, looking firm and confident against them. He seemed to be smirking, wiping his mouth with his sleeve before he continued to talk.

 

“Come on gentlemen, why don’t we all sit like civilized men and discuss this.” He said in a rather proper manner, his voice adult-like and mature, with the slightest hint of playfulness in it.

 

“Ha, gentlemen. You are the farthest from a proper man, Ackles. Pay up.” The middle man said, the biggest out of the burly three. His voice made him sound as if he was in the slightest amused, but Jared couldn’t tell from his standpoint.

 

“But we are far from the pay date.” The man—who Jared will call Ackles from now on—replied, his voice again playful and friendly, but Jared to tell he was stalling, or even better bargaining, for something.

 

“Far, yes. Far past the pay date. Pay. Up.” The main-man said, his voice harsh and demanding when he spoke the last two words, a result of his temper running out, as Jared could assume.

 

“Past, present, future, it’s still not the date.” Ackles sassed back, but he soon realized that was a mistake when the man angrily groaned at him through his teeth, causing the man’s face to fall in an instant. “Well, I mean, we can always bargain again…” the man trailed off his response, his voice becoming quiet soon, soft enough that Jared couldn’t hear him.

 

He leaned forward, trying to eagerly hear the conversation taking place; however, being as clumsy as he is, Jared’s height got the best of him, his body leaning forward enough for him to fall to the ground, face first. This action secreted a loud ‘thump’ noise, grabbing all the attention of the men in the fenced area, causing them to turn their heads towards Jared direction. Then and there they saw Jared’s lanky body lying flat on the floor, limbs out and face flat against the ground. Lifting his head, Jared looked at the 4 men, face red and a bit dusty from the ground, but he was too overtaken by fear to notice what was on his face. He knew he had screwed up, he was screwed from the first second he decided to follow the men. He wanted to blame his overrunning curiosity for where he was, but it was too late now, as he could nothing more in this situation.

 

Suddenly, Ackles ran towards Jared, grabbing him by the hem of his shirt, yanking him up. Jared hissed at the force, feeling his body being moved in an unpleasant way, standing up straight. Before he knew it, his legs bent in the slightest and a hand in his hair yanked him backward, right before a cold, sharp metal was met at his throat. It was a knife, a goddamn knife and Jared was held against his will by it. Gasping, Jared’s eyes went wide as he froze. What was he supposed to do? All he could do was stand still as his body was being held by Ackles will.

 

“Come near me and the boy will be killed!” Ackles warned, his teeth grit together as he pressed the knife a bit harder against Jared’s neck, hard enough to almost break the skin. Although it didn’t the slight pinch of pain was still there, making him whimper for a bit.

 

“We do not care for the boy! He means nothing!” The burly man laughed, smirking as Ackles’ face fell a bit, suddenly feeling unprepared.

 

“He may mean nothing, but once people find out that his death was on your hands, they will start to question your protection!” He exclaimed, pulling Jared closer to his body. Jared was pulled back a bit further, his lanky body leaning against the man’s built frame. He was still terrified, enough for him to stand still and comply with the man’s actions, what else could he do in the situation?

 

“’Who would believe we allowed such a thing to take place. Besides, he is just a homeless peasant, no one will care.” The man laughed; Ackles grit his teeth once more and at this point Jared felt the metal leave his neck, relief coursing through his body. In an instant, Ackles’ hand flung forward, the knife being thrown out of his hands towards the man in the middle. Everyone only had a second to be surprised before the knife penetrated the man’s eye, sticking into the white of it while blood dripped down from the wound.

 

At this the man screamed out in agony, causing his two Hench Men to move to his side, giving Ackles enough time to grab Jared and run down the street away from them. For a second Jared didn’t know what to do, not only was he used as a ransom but now the same man who threatened to kill him was yanking him along the snowy path, forcing him to come with him. Jared’s face was stunned, his eyes open in surprise, but Ackles’ face was focused on the street, his feet violently pattering against the pavement as they ran on. This was absolutely insane; in Jared’s mind, he should try to escape, yet he couldn’t bring himself to leave the grip of the man, too stunned by the circumstances.

 

“Come back here!” A voice echoed from behind them, but Ackles didn’t seem to care, he took the thought into consideration though, cursing under his breath. He turned his head behind them, still running, sighing slightly in annoyance and distress.

 

Before Jared could do anything, he felt his body being yanked to the left, sideways from his original movement. He was being yanked into an alley, dark and unclear, enough for no one to even bat an eye at them. Suddenly, he was being pushed against a wall, the weight keeping him there. He looked down a bit to see Ackles looking at the opening of the alley before looking back up at the distressed Jared, not even giving him a moment to think before he placed his palm over Jared’s mouth, cutting him from speaking. Before Jared could even murmur anything, Ackles shushed him.

 

“Don’t you dare say anything or we’re dead!” He commanded forcefully, enough to shake Jared and cause him to comply. He kept completely still, and quiet, following the commands Ackles gave him. Ackles himself didn’t say a word, he didn’t move, he just stood still there, not daring to even flinch in fear of being caught.

 

The silence only lasted for a short period of time, both men not hearing a word around them. Suddenly, a low conversation was heard, causing them to flinch.

 

“They escaped sir.”

 

“Damn it! Sheppard will kill us!”

 

“Sir, he must understand—“

 

“No Jacob you do not understand! He will murder us!”

 

“Not if he doesn’t find out.”

 

“He will find out eventually; he is Sheppard, he’ll find out if your wife slept with the baker..”

 

As the conversation drifted on, both Ackles and Jared stood still, waiting for the men to walk past them. Jared could see their shadows walking father away from them, visible on the concrete wall in front of him, although Ackles decided to tilt his head slightly to look out the alley. Jared waited for Ackles’ head to come back, signalizing that the men were gone, relieved when he had done just that.

 

Finally, Ackles pulled away, allowing Jared to finally breathe. Thought, for a second, he found breathing near impossible. How was he supposed to live normally after being involved in such a drastic scene? It is not as if he could tell anyone, who has he got to tell? He is just stuck in this situation with nowhere else to turn.

 

Suddenly, a hand grasped his wrist, pulling him out of his inner trauma: Ackles.

 

“Let’s go.” He stated simply, pulling on Jared’s wrist to yank him forward. Still, a bit shook, Jared tripped forward slightly at the pull, but finding his stance a bit later. He suddenly stopped moving, keeping his legs against the ground to stop Ackles. Surprised by this, Ackles turned his head, looking Jared straight in the eye with a look of annoyance. “What!” He hissed harshly, clearly pissed at Jared’s sudden resistance.

 

“Let go of me!” Jared grouted, struggling to pull his grip away from Ackles. Rolling his eyes, Ackles only tightened his grip on Jared’s wrist, causing the frail boy to wince at the pressure.

 

“Oh, shut up! Do you honestly believe I will let you go after what you have just witnessed?” Ackles stated, his voice tinted with a bit of sadism. He gave Jared a half smirk, causing Jared to feel rather uneasy. Of course he wasn’t getting out of this, he was doomed.

 

“N-NO! Please! Let me go! I won’t tell a soul!” Jared pleaded, pulling away from Ackles harder, trying with all his might to get away. But Ackles only grabbed his other wrist, pulling Jared towards him.

 

“Stop struggling!” He complained, his grip only getting tighter.

 

“Please let me go! Please!” Jared cried out, even though he knows it no use. If Ackles wanted to let him go, he would have run away from the men without him.

 

“Shut the hell up!” Ackles yelled before finally yanking Jared roughly into his chest, wrapping his left forearm around Jared’s slender chest and his right hand over Jared’s mouth to silence him. At that, Jared screamed, yet the sound was canceled out by Jensen’s palm.  Jared finally groans in defeat; it was no use, Ackles wouldn’t let him go. “Better.” Ackles finally sighed; he looked around the area one more time just to make sure none of the men were left, or anyone for that matter, before running down the street down Lumos Street, towards an empty part of town. Jared was being dragged by his arm, too weak and fragile to attempt escaping. He had given up, what was the point of running away if he has nothing to go back to.

 

 He didn’t matter much anyways.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is basically Jared meeting the other man in Ackles' duo, and what they plan to do with him. Anyways, thank you for reading my work and please comment and leave kudos (and constructive criticisms). 
> 
> This is not Beta-read

Ackles trenched into a dark light-room with his hand tightly wrapped around Jared’s wrist, yanking him in forcefully as he did the whole walk here. Jared remembers the travel here, how much of the city he saw as he was being pulled around by Ackles; it was the most Jared ever saw of the town, as least with another person, but Ackles didn’t make it enjoyable. 

“You tell no one this location, or I will slit your throat.” Ackles hissed, pulling Jared close to him, casing Jared to gulp as he looked up and down his face. Ackles had his teeth grit tight, hiding behind his plump, pink lips, yet his eyes, although a beautiful green, were only filled with anger. Jared couldn’t believe a man so beautiful can be that terrifying, however, he is too petrified to move. Jared timidly nodded his head, agreeing to Ackles harsh command. 

Suddenly, Jared felt his feet jerk backward as a heavy pressure hit his chest, his body collapsing onto the ground with a jolt of pain in his back due to the rough contact. Jared let out a small whimper as he forced himself to straighten up, his bangs falling into his eyes as soon as Ackles let out a snicker. “And fucking stay down.” He heard before spotting the pattering of Ackles feet. For a moment, Jared lied completely still, not daring to move due to the fear of upsetting the forceful man, which he knew only would lead to more of a beating. 

Whimpering silently, Jared finally forced his body to straighten up, mustering up enough strength to lift his weight so he could lean against the rough wooden wall, the rigid, patchy texture giving away its old age. Jared sighed as his body leaned against the material, relieved that his muscles could relax for a moment. At that time he didn’t know how to approach his situation: should he leave now when he was out of Ackles sight? Or, should he just stay, knowing the cost of being caught could be severe. Who knows how brutal Ackles really is, or if he was alone, from what Jared knew, Ackles could have a partner who is just as merciless, and Jared really should reconsider the situation twice before attempting to escape. 

The whole thing though was messing with Jared’s head; death or at least abuse was in his view, forming into a beautiful green-eyed man, ready to bash his head if he misbehaved. He wanted to cry, he has to cry, but he won’t allow himself to. He had gone through winters, summers, seasons of harsh turmoil that could have been worse than this; he shouldn’t act like a wuss. He shakily inhaled a dry breath, daring to let out a cough as the cold air filled his tightening lungs, a shiver running up his body. He let go of the breath; he sat still. 

A few short minutes later, Jared heard the sound of footsteps again, causing his body to jolt involuntarily in response. Almost instantly, he fell back onto the floor in his original position, hoping Ackles wouldn’t notice. Suddenly, the footsteps stopped and Jared could feel the presence in front of him, but he wasn’t sure who else—besides Ackles—was already there. 

“You kidnapped a young boy?” The voice said, a new voice, one that was a bit higher than Ackles, having a softer tone to it. 

“He was spying on our meeting.” Ackles cleared, a bit in his tone.

“Sheppard’s men?” The man asked, and for a second Jared could only hear silence before the man spoke again. “How did that go?”

“Great,” Ackles replied, sarcasm present in his voice. 

“Amazing.” The man replied, with the same tone of sarcasm. “You made a deal?” 

“Could have worked it out if it wasn’t for the damn beanstalk.” Ackles said bitterly, and instantly Jared knew he was referring to him, causing his body to tense up. Ballocks.

“Aww Jen, you scared him.” The man said, voice teasing yet still kinder than Ackles. 

“Good, maybe he’ll keep quiet.” Ackles replied.

“I’m going to presume he hasn’t spoken a word.” The man replied, and Jared could feel their eyes on him, but he still forced his body not to move. 

“He’s whimpered a lot. Quim.” Ackles said, grimacing at him. 

“Well maybe you can talk to the boy.” The man finally said, and then the room went silent.

He soon felt a hand softly hovering over his head, barley touching his hair, causing him to jump slightly, only to come back down wincing. 

“Well hello there,” The man said softly, and this time Jared looked up at him, taking in his appearance. The man was tall (not as tall as himself) with black, well-trimmed hair that seemed to square up and curve a bit at the top, along with slightly pale colored skin and a beautiful pair of ocean-blue eyes. He was a beautiful man, smiling right at Jared with kind eyes, at least kinder than Ackles. “Your name?” He asked, waiting patiently for Jared to answer.

Jared kept silent, his eyes skirting back onto the wooden floor that seemed to be caging his feet, but it was Ackles and the man who were caging his body and mind. 

“Aww, Jensen he looks very sad and pathetic. Like a beggar.” The man commented, not seeming to mind that those words might offend Jared, but they were true. 

“He is a beggar.” Ackles confirmed, eyeing Jared almost viciously; Jared knows he hates him.

“I was right.” The man responded, tone getting a bit higher and more upbeat, seeming to be proud of himself.

“You always are..” Ackles said, shaking his head slightly at the man. 

“I’m Collins. That’s not my proper first name but, it’ll do for right now.” The man—Collins, told him. Jared took in the information, but he did not respond, staying completely still. “Doesn’t talk much does he?” Collins continued, turning towards Ackles who looked unamused. 

“Quim.” Ackles states.   
Jared internally whimpers at the word, but keeps it inside his head, not showing any signs of hurt. 

“Aww, he’s upset. Don’t call him a quim, Jensen.” Collins said; dammit. Jared thought he head hid his emotions pretty well, but it seemed as if he didn’t do it as well as he presumed. “No; I just can read people well.” Collins continues, surprising Jared a bit. Had he just read his mind? 

Almost instantly, Collins nodded his head, seeming to confirm his statement. 

“Misha! What are we to do with him?” Ackles asked, impatiently, glaring at Jared quickly. 

“What do you think?” Collins replied, turning his head towards Ackles with a raised eyebrow. For a moment, Ackles stayed silent, seeming as if he was perplexed about the idea as well. 

“We can kill him.” Ackles spurted out.

Jared’s blood froze.

“Come on Ackles, focus.” Collins snapped, right before turning towards Jared, eyeing him up and down. Jared felt a shiver run down his spine at both gazes, fear levels rushing up in anticipation. “Look at him: he’s pathetic,” Jared winced internally. “skinny, weak; he looks like a wounded puppy.” He finished, turning towards Ackles. “What do you think can come out of this? Imagine what he can do for us.” He finished, and Jared wanted to cry. 

“We could sell him. He probably is a strumpet.” Ackles harshly spoke out, glaring at Jared hatefully. 

“Are you suggesting we force him into prostitution?” Collins asked, wanting clarification. Jared felt his throat tighten, all moisture leaving his mouth. He wanted to cry so much, sob until his heart was cry, but he couldn’t, not in front of them.

“Yes.” Ackles replied plainly, which Collins only responded with a displeased face. 

“No.” Collins said—Jared eased down a bit. “The price is too low.” But the uneasiness never left him.

“Then what do you suggest? If not a three-penny-upright, why not slavery.” Ackles said. 

“He is too weak to work fields, no one would take him in.” Collins said, each word jabbing Jared right in the head; he is speaking to him as if he was a toy. 

“Then what!” Ackles exclaimed, annoyance present in his tone. Jared jumped slightly, which seemed to annoy Ackles as soon as he caught the action. “Stop jumping, Quim.” Ackles spat, spitting right onto Jared’s leg. Jared moved his leg slightly, but he couldn’t react much, in fear of upsetting the two men. 

“We use him.” Collins stated, smirking at Ackles instantly confused face. 

“As in?” 

“Look at him Jensen.” Collins said, gesturing his hand towards Jared’s fallen body. “He is weak, whimpering, innocent, as I said a kicked puppy. People will feel sympathy for him, giving him money, paying attention to him; he’s our greatest reaction; he’s our greatest tool.” Collins explained, turning his head towards Jared. “Right?” Collins asked him.

Of course, Jared couldn’t reply. He is speaking as if Jared was a simple tool. He was beyond terrified by the situation he was in, and although the man in front of him seems harmless, he couldn’t trust that. The first time he set eyes on Ackles made his face heat up in astonishment yet, he turned out to be the one dragging Jared into this mess. Whoever this man was, Jared would be stupid to trust him.

“That…isn’t a terrible idea, Collins.” Ackles stated, eyeing Jared up and down again, almost in confirmation. Yes, Jared is skinny, he knows that, he understands he’s weak, but this, this situation makes him feel trapped. 

“Then it’s settled!” Collins chirped enthusiastically, crouching down so his face was lined up with Jared’s head. “You are our new tool, close to a rent boy, but, you will not be dressing up as a lady.” Collins said, “Unless…it is necessary.” Suddenly Collins is chuckling hysterically, seeming to laugh at his own joke, not even caring about how Jared would react. Jared, eyes wide, quickly looked up at Ackles, who looked down at him evilly, a smirk present on his face that was enough to freeze his blood. 

He was a caged animal now, trapped by two bulky men who were about to use Jared in any way they want. He knew he was trapped, he knew he was doomed in the hands of these men, he understood this—he couldn’t hold it in any longer. 

It was first another whimper, is throat beginning to tighten simultaneously while his body began to shake, cries getting louder; he felt his eyes start to fill up with tears, filling up to its brim before escaping his eyes, dripping down his face.

“Jensen, look.” Collins stated, almost in astonishment. “He’s crying!” he exclaimed, but his tone was upbeat and excited, not sympathetic. He could hear Ackles start to chuckle, amused at Jared’s recent actions, enjoying the tertiary the boy was going through.

Jared wanted to scream; he wanted to flail his arms around, exclaiming his horrors to the world, away from the men’s clutches. But he couldn’t, he knew he couldn’t. From what he can tell these men are con artists who know how to bend Jared to their will; besides, Jared’s too weak to do anything, he has nothing to go back to.

So with his heart heavy, throat stiff, and face dripped with tears, he sobs, knowing he should attempt to run away

But he knows he can’t.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a bit more of filler, but its more so you can get a sense of the characters. Hope you enjoy!

They left him to cry for the rest of the night, not bothering to give the boy any comfort after they had spoken to him, allowing him to soak up the torturous future he has now forced into. He could feel bile climb up his throat, burning the precious skin of his inner throat. At the same time, sobs forcefully ripped themselves from his body, emulating loudly. Jared couldn’t escape now, after revealing the duo’s plan, Ackles would not let the boy out of his sight; while Collins didn’t care much whether Jared left of stayed. Still, none of them approached him, only glancing at him from time to time as he sat and cried. Ackles even took the time to glare at Jared when he occasionally calmed down, only causing him to cry more. 

“He is crying again..” Ackles commented, clearly annoyed by this overplayed action. 

He and Collins were sitting down at a table placed in the middle of the room, across from Jared. It was a reasonably-sized table, enough to accommodate 3 or 4 people, a chair on each side. It seemed to be made out of a wood, one that is worn and old, yet still sturdy. Jared could see that through his tear-filled eyes that it was a broken down kitchen, one part of another room, a dusty stove and a few broken-down appliances to accommodate it. Broken seems to be a reoccurring theme. 

“Yeah, tears look pitiful on him. Perfect!” Collins replied, clearly happy by this fact. 

“Friend, they are permanently on his face. Its—“

“Pitiful. Exactly. You see what I am trying to emulate, Jensen?” Collins turned his face towards the other man, a pleased smile present. It was the exact opposite of Ackles’, his expression aloof.

Jensen? Jared’s heard that name before.

“You said my name to him.” Ackles pointed out, turning to the weak Jared, who was curled up timidly against the wall.

“He was going to figure it out somehow.” Collins commented with a snarky grin, trying not to laugh at Jensen’s irritated face. 

“Not if we didn’t tell him. He’s stupid; he wouldn’t figure it out.” Ackles—Jensen—said, throwing another insult at the boy, seeming to come naturally to him. 

“He’s not the brightest, no. I mean, who would follow a man being chased by 3 other guys?” Collins said, turning to smile at Jared, who curled into himself more. He understood that it was a stupid decision; why didn’t he stay at the restaurant, where he was unseen and out of harm’s way? He mentally cursed at himself again, his body stiffing slightly at the same time, but relaxing afterwards. He was still tense, but his tears had stopped falling, which Collins seemed to appreciate.

“Look! He stopped crying!” Collins pointed out, his finger aiming directly towards Jared, gesturing Jensen to look. “See Jensen!”

“Yeah, I see.” He replied unenthusiastically, not care much about the action, only rolling his green eyes in response. 

“That’s impressive!” He exclaimed, walking towards Jared happily before ruffling his hair, causing the boy to scrunch uncomfortably. 

Collins didn’t seem to care about the reaction, still wearing the same impressed smile. He then leaned down, face parallel to Jared’s, making sure to keep direct eye contact before he started to speak. 

“My first name is Misha, if you were wondering.” He revealed, amused by Jared baffled gaze, keeping his smile. He then straightened up and turned to Jensen, who was clearly unamused by this. “See Jensen, it isn’t so bad.”

“Misha, stop playing with him.” Jensen replied, getting up from his chair before walking towards the staircase next to the table, which Jared believes could only lead to a room upstairs.

“It’s were we keep the bodies.” Misha said, seeming to read Jared’s mind. It took a second for Jared register Misha words before his eyes went wide, looking up at the man shocked and fearful. Misha then instantly broke out laughing, shaking his head at Jared’s innocent response before he turned towards the staircase Jensen just walked up. “Ahh, Jensen! He’s absolutely pitiful! It’s adorable!” He commented, only causing Jared to whimper at the shaming remark. 

He then turned around back towards Jared, staring at him for a moment before his face lit up, realization fading in. “Jensen! Are you getting the old ones?” He called out, voice directed towards Ackles upstairs. They both stood in silence for a few seconds, Misha seeming to not be fazed when Jensen didn’t reply. “He has!” he said joyfully, turning towards Jared with an excited smile. 

Jared again was confused as to what Misha implying, however he decided not to ask, keeping quiet.

Misha stood for a second as Ackles—Jensen, walked down, with what seemed like a thin material, along with a small bump of fabric, and a brown belt, all seeming to be a different shade of beige. 

“Where did you find these old things?” Misha asked, voice feigning surprise. 

“In the trunk. It might be a bit small.” Jensen replied, letting Misha look at the material.

“But he is so skinny!”

“He’s still tall Misha.”

Quirking his right eyebrow in surprise, Misha nodded his head in agreement, sticking his bottom lip out in thought.

“Yeah you’re right. Boy!” he called out, raising his voice at the frightened Jared. “Put it on!” He commanded, voice stern and decisive, forcing Jared body to respond instantaneously. He legs wouldn’t move, but his body was alert, each of Misha’s words sparking him to action. 

Misha then threw the clothing at the young boy, a quick flash of brown in Jared’s eyesight before he felt the light fabric land on his lap, covering the area. He did not touch it at first, reluctant to cave into anything he obtained; however, he picked up the items with, bringing it up to his eyes to examine. 

It was a complete set of clothing. A white, long sleeved cotton shirt matched with a stripped, sleeveless-beige vest, one with flared—or torn—tips. He was also given cotton shorts, material an old muddy-brown, crinkled and seemed as if it hasn’t been used in ages. It was all accompanied with a puffy beige hat, similar to a bonnet and a brown belt, both seeming to be worn; the tares and fold give away its misuse, as if the tailor made them from scrap pieces of cloth he had did not want to waste.

No shoes as well.

“Without shoes, you will look even more pitiful!” Misha exclaimed, smiling childishly at Jared, who looked mentally rung out. He was confused; was this a charade? Were Jensen and Misha actually just sadistic men who wanted to find young boy to play with? It wasn’t uncommon among his time, he knew some men liked other men, but it was a hushed topic that anyone would avoid speaking of, as if it were the plague. Gal-sneakers whose target was set on young men. 

“Change.” Jensen commanded afterwards, looking at Jared sternly, impatience soon spilling over as Jared sat statically. Right here; right now? It seemed as if that was what he was implying to, changing in front of the two men he had just met. 

“W-why—“

“Shut up and change, Cumberground.” Jensen demanded, and insulted. It stung to Jared, insults attacking him unanimously, no matter what he has done or what he hasn’t. It was almost involuntary, at least, that’s what Jared assumes so. However, none of this effects the task ahead, he was about to change in front of men who could have killed him, or who knows, is still planning to. “Now.” This time it wasn’t a demand, it was a statement. Jared had to change now. 

Attempting to stand, Jared used his arms for support, pushing himself slightly off the ground only to buck forward in pain, his knees stinging violently. His hands caught himself right before his knees crashed against the ground, most likely resulting in more pain. His breathing became shaky after this, being let out unevenly after the sudden movement, short and sharp. He took in a deep breath, coughing out air shortly after, pain advancing up his throat gradually. Jensen or Misha made a comment while the event proceeded, impatiently waiting for Jared to fulfill his actions. 

Finally, Jared regained some control over his breathing and movements, moving back to sit on the floor due to the overwhelming irritation in his knees. His breathing was unsteady, but he coped with it better, hiding his struggle from the two men. At this, Misha groaned, rolling his eyes dramatically before he turned towards the table, trudging over to it loudly before slamming his hands on the wooden surface. A sound emulated throughout the room. 

“Oh god, this is getting irritating rapidly. Just change; please!” He basically was screaming at this point, annoyance dripping down from his tone thickly, landing right onto Jared, or moreover his knees and brain: knees for their inability to move and brain for the incapacity to find a resolution to the problem. Jared tried his best in doing the action, but an attempt is all he could muster, his knees sulking immediately after a failed trail of standing. Jared fell back down with a huff, banging the back of his head against the wall, his eyes shut in order to block out the anger rising on both men’s faces. 

“HE WON”T FUCKING MOVE!”

Jared could not tell if this was Jensen or Misha, and he couldn’t care less; in the end, it would all lead up to his defeat, physically or mentally. 

“M-my knees….” It was all he could say, but he was praying to whatever god or being in the sky to end his misery, either in this circumstance, or just in all.

“Speak up, Cumberground.” Jensen.

“T-they hurt…”

“Jensen, his knees hurt. Maybe that is why they are swollen.” 

Jared didn’t even take account that his knees had been swollen, the pain being enough to tell him what was wrong. However, it seemed as if Misha had seen them, and for that matter, chose to ignore them. 

“The poor peasant cannot move.” A chuckle followed the man’s words, and by now, Jared would be surprised if a dash of pathetic laughter did not follow Misha’s sayings. 

“God-fucking-great.” Jensen groaned, and Jared knew his expression was one of pure exasperation. 

“Alright then, wagtail. Sit another day until you can get up.”

“Misha we don’t have time!”

“It’s either that, or an immobile boy. He won’t create a distraction and we cannot escape.”

A groan left Jensen’s lips instantly, followed by a boot stomping on the ground. A violent sound took Jared by surprise, causing him to curl into himself tighter. Then, he felt a fist clench around his current garments, pulling on his collar violently, causing a shortage of breath. Still, he did not open his eyes, but it seemed as if Jensen didn’t care.  
“You’re wasting valuable time, Cumberground. I guess it follows the name.” He felt a puff of air hit his face, but Jensen continued. “Be ready by tomorrow, or you’ll be back with the trash you’re from.” With that, Jensen let go of Jared’s collar, pushing him back against the wall before heading back upstairs. And, by the sound of second footsteps, Jared could tell Misha went along with him, leaving Jared alone on the first floor. 

After a few moments of silence, Jared’s body slumped once more, ironically becoming Jared automatic state. His knees still stung, and his eyes still kept closed, afraid that if they opened, Misha and Jensen would be back to torment him. His body let out a ripple of a breath, one clearly filled with Jared discomfort, unease, and dread. His mind wanted to panic, but his body was too drained to fulfil any action. 

He let his head fall against the wood and his shoulders slump, eyes open slightly to the dark room—they had turned off the light (Jared was too distraught to hear the switch). 

Fitting, he supposed, chuckling slightly; it was all too symbolic.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahh its been a while guys. Schools out and has been for a month, but I've not had the time to work on this because of lack of motivation. Which sucks, as a writer, who is already shitty anyway.
> 
> But, heres another chapter, a lot doesn;t happen, but its leading towards Jared's new experience and a event that I have planned from the creation of this series.
> 
> Anyways, comment and leave kudos please, they are greatly appreciated and I love writing this series for you (reads hits count) you 2 people; thanks a million. 
> 
> See ya ~ Fin.

Jared’s eyes snap back open when he felt a sudden slap of material hit his shoulder. The contact awakens his senses, allowing him to access the situation. His body jolts up right after, eyes roaming the room in order to find the source of the sudden action. They then land on a blonde-haired man, one with a built frame and green ey—Jensen. 

“Wake up, Cumberground. And get up. If your knees are still useless by now, then we’ll just throw you out.” 

Jared squinted at the man confused before his eyes fell onto his knees, reminiscing on the past events that had played out the night before. Groaning, he attempted to get up onto his feet, surprising himself when the pain present before subdued. He looked up with wide eyes, partly hidden behind his bangs, straight at the unimpressed Ackles, who rolled his eyes at Jared’s joy before turning towards the stairs. 

“Misha! It can walk!” 

It? Was it just another way that Ackles could degrade him? 

“He can? Fantastic!” His animated voice echos from the stairs, bouncing into the main room before hitting both of the men. Or more appropriately, the man and Jared; Jared is deemed a lower class. However, Jared has quietly programmed himself to not talk cockily in their presence, presuming it to be risky. 

The pitter of Misha’s feet pulled Jared out of his thoughts, maneuvering him to stand straighter, leaning against the wall for slight support. The two men were both clothed, wearing identical pairs of the clothing: brown, button-up vests over a plain white shirt, accompanied with the similar brown colored pantsuits. The only difference between the two was Jensen’s blue-plaid tie, neatly knotted around his neck, the fabric stopping right at his mid-chest. The men were both clean shaved and washed, seeming to have prepared for the day’s events, which Jared has no knowledge of.

“See, he’s not useless.” Misha commented, his tone one of faux endearment. 

“As long as he can do his goddamn job, I don’t care.” Ackles grumbled, turning to walk towards what seems like a miniature kitchen. Jared’s eyes followed his movements, watching the man make way across the rough, wooden flooring, offhandedly opening a small cabinet to pull out a mug. He didn’t watch Ackles’ for long, turning his head towards the beaming Misha, who seemed to be eying the clothing in my arms. 

“Well, put it on!” He commanded, his tone not being thickly hidden with his usual upbeat demeanor, but, still present. Jared widens his eyes, looking down at his clothes, around the room, and then finally back at Misha, waiting on his patiently. 

“H-here?” he asks, his voice raspy from misuse. 

“Yes, here. Did you think we are letting you upstairs unattended?” Misha asks amusingly, chuckling lightly at the retracted Jared. 

Shame was not the problem; it was the situation. Normally, no one notices Jared on the streets, mistaking him for a rock even, if curled up. He could change in the alleyways and no bystander would look—they wouldn’t even be acclaimed a bystander, just another townsperson going about their day. However, he was presently in a small room, displayed openly, in front of two men who held the chord to Jared’s life over his head. Maybe shame was a factor, but fear ran the ship. 

“Don’t be embarrassed now!” Misha scoffs, childishly. 

“We most likely won’t be seeing you after today’s events anyway.” Ackles calls out, facing the direction of his tea-filled mug, slowly stirring in a spoonful of sugar. Misha hums at his comment, gawking at the thin boy as if he is a weak insect in a jar, intrigued at what it will do next.

It. 

“B-but—“

“Stuttering! He is doing it again, my friend!” Misha announces, clearly entertained. 

“Tell him to goddamn change before we throw him out!” Ackles asserts, voice impatient and irritated. Flinching slightly, Jared ducks his head, looking down at the beige-colored clothing in his arms before deflating, looking up at Misha before turning around. No matter what he does, he is ridiculed. So why be embarrassed now?

Yet, he might forget this realization later on. 

He uses his dominant leg to turn himself around, his limp leg trailing behind, his back against the room. Letting out a shaky breath, Jared lightly drops the beige material on the floor, the sound following, a weak thud. Misha then raises an eyebrow, curiously observing Jared’s intentions, watching to see what follows. Jared quickly, trying to contain any screams that would result from his back injury, takes off his shirt, pulling the fabric over his head before grabbing it softly, bringing it up to his face. God, it reeks. He doesn’t remember the last time he has bathed. 

Dropping the fabric onto the floor, he follows the pursuit by putting on a white, cotton shirt, with what seems like flared tips. It’s a bit large on him, the fabric hanging over his midsection loosely, and barely touching the skin. The see-through white shapes over his ribs, slightly displaying the prominent bone. He pulls over the sleeveless jacket, imprinted with thin, vertical brown stripes that possess the same thickness as the undershirt. He then takes off his beige pants, now the ones he’s outgrown and damaged. It stings slightly, bringing his bent knee up to pry the fabric off, but he deems not to show it. The plan does not succeed.

“He sounds like a woman.” Ackles says, bringing the mug up to his lips. 

Quickly ditching his pants, Jared is left in his underpants, an old pair he had found in a garbage pile. It may not be the most hygienic, but Jared was not or currently in the position to care. Pulling own the brown trousers, which seems to be made from the cheapest material—Jared’s never felt anything nicer anyway—he buttons up the top. He looks down at the trousers, which appear to be too short for him, the hems stopping at his mid-thighs. 

“Put on the belt.”

Misha’s command urges him to pick up the brown belt, smooth on the surface yet rough at the hems, feeling almost like thick silk: leather. He has always seen these in shops and on gentlemen at night but never has he received one or touched on for that matter. How does he put it on?

“You don’t know how to put on a belt?” Misha inquires, reading Jared’s mind once again. 

“Is it serious?” Ackles calls from the kitchen, voice hinted with disbelief. 

“Well you must remember Jensen, he is a beggar.” Misha says.

“Cumberground.” Jensen whispers, continuing to sip his tea.

Jared whimpers quietly, feeling embarrassment take over. He has worn the same pair of clothing from his abandonment to his current life, sticking to his body as if they were a second skin. Like a snake, he has hoped to shed them, but now the snake is bewildered with his new revenue.

“Forget the belt, put on the hat.”

And to Misha command, Jared complies, placing the puffed hat on top of his head securing it in place with his hands. When his hands return to his sides, he inhales quietly, facing the chipped ceiling above him. He is clothed, but the shame still resides. 

“Shoes.”

Oh.

Jared quickly sits down, hands fumbling with the leather shoes given to him, hurriedly typing the damaged ties. Afterward, he looks up, jolting slightly when he seems not only Misha but Ackles watching over him, their presence caging him. He curls inwards slightly, waiting for another insult.

Only silence follows. 

“Get up,” Ackles commands, and instantly Jared perks up, wincing marginally due to his back pain, but nonetheless standing. Ackles glares at him, eyes him up and down, and turns towards the door. “We are going to the farmers market, we are going to act as measly men looking for goods, and you will act as a beggar, as you are. You are going to distract the sellers while we take their products—“

Jared’s eyes went wide at this. He was a distraction; he was going to be bait while the two men steal from the innocent.

“—don’t act so surprised. You know we are thieves.” Ackles grumbles, glaring at the younger boy.

“Act weak; as you already are.” Misha adds, beaming at Jared. 

“And if you dare,” Ackles takes a step forward towards Jared, causing him to step back instinctively, hitting the wall, “to tell anyone we are thieves,” his left foot was crunching over Jared’s toes now, pushing aggressively into them, “we will kill you.” His hand flies into Jared’s locks, dripping it tightly before granting it a ruthless tug. 

Jared winces at this action; his scalp burns from harmful toying, stinging at the roots.

“Understand.”

“Yes.” It is a pathetic reply, high pitched and timid, but it was all Jared could muster.

Jensen grips onto his hair for a few more seconds, watching as Jared’s face clenches up in ache, waiting for him to stop. Sadistically, he smirks, and let’s go of his hair, allowing the tension in Jared’s face to settle down, turning towards Misha.

“Get the wagon and horse.”


End file.
